Nothing to Worry About
by jeromevaleska
Summary: You're jealous of Barbara because her and Jerome do everything in the Maniax.
You'd seen it happening. The looks that lingered a moment too long, the touches – simple touches, friendly touches, a light pat on the shoulder here, the barest graze to his shoulder there, and that one time when a leaf was pulled from messy blonde hair and his eyes flashed in a strange mixture of irritation and amusement – small and insignificant, to the average person they meant nothing, but to you they meant everything.

You couldn't help your feelings of envy, even though you wanted to bottle them up and throw them out a window. Barbara and Jerome did everything together in the Maniax, such as when they attended the Gotham Children's Hospital Gala, the massacre at the GCPD, how he always brought her when it was time to wreak havoc on the city, and not you. You couldn't have felt more out of the loop.

Though, you knew you shouldn't have been jealous, the ginger was yours, and the blond had her sights on the detective Jim Gordon, bug you couldn't help it. You wondered how you were supposed to compete with her, she had smoky lashes and hair that belonged on a shampoo advert, the dresses or anything she wore basically hugged the contours of her body so perfectly, you didn't think you could ever match up with her, or saw the point of even attempting it. You shouldn't have to compete, though, that was the thing, because you were Jerome's girl, even if you had to remind yourself of it every couple of minutes.

One of your many problems stemmed from the fact that you didn't allow yourself to get comfortable in the first place. You never got comfortable, never allowed yourself to reach that state of careless abandon because you knew that intrinsically as well as logically that letting your guard down was folly. Things would only end up hopelessly messy and probably painful and definitely uncomfortable, all things you fervently wished to avoid, if you did.

But seeing this new development in a relationship, a friendship between two that was built by the same interests, a constant battle of one-upmanship that you were not included in, it made you feel lost. You hadn't noticed your growing co-dependence before it was too late and the thought of it ending brought about pretty much the same feeling you had at the thought of plucking the sun from the sky.

Because both would inevitably turn your world into darkness.

You focused on the cup of coffee in front of you and nothing else while you sat in the kitchen of the penthouse. The sound of raucous laughter brought you out of your perusal of the cup before you, making you look to the source.

Jerome was laughing at something Barbara had said, he looked genuinely pleased and amused with the biggest grin on his face, as if Barbara made a knee-slapper. The longer you sat, the more your chest felt like it was being stabbed over and over with dozens of sharp, pointy knives. You wore a smile on your face and nodded when he looked your way, but you could tell it didn't reach his eye. Not that it mattered. You didn't think he noticed that you were a pro at making people believe whatever you wanted them to believe, it was practically in your job description.

You felt like a ike a third-wheel when it was Barbara who decided to join you two for breakfast, you couldn't help the grimace that took over your features and determined it was time to go. Pushing your still untouched cup of coffee towards the ginger, you waved at him and then at Barbara (who looked all too eager to have you gone) and headed to your room.

You had been in your room long enough to take off your shoes, socks, and hang your coat up on a hook by the door when someone was there knocking on the other side. They didn't wait for you to open it but barged right in, in their usual method and slammed it behind them, also like usual. You slouched with your hands in your pockets, and simply raised an eyebrow, giving Jerome a very unimpressed look.

Jerome pursed his lips, crossed his arms, and looked at you like he was trying to figure out the way to catch something that was eluding him.

"Something's up with you," he wasted no time getting straight to the point. "What is it, dollface? what's wrong?" he persisted, a chuckle almost escaping his lips before he could make an attempt at stifling it.

"What could possibly be wrong, Jerome?" you smiled but you felt the beginnings of a headache forming. Best to just tell him he was mistaken and send him on his way. "I'm just peachy," you added.

"If I knew I wouldn't be asking you," he shrugged, and you wondered if he was just playing dumb or if he was that oblivious. He crossed the few feet that separated you two in a single stride and narrowed his eyes.

"It's nothing," you lied. "Why don't you just go back to Barbara? If you hurry, I'm sure you can still catch her," you suggested.

"And why would I do that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question.

You didn't say anything, just looked away. You figured you should say something to head this off but you knew that nothing would ever be that easy when it came to the redhead.

"Forget I mentioned it, then. I'm going to bed now anyway, so I'll see you to—"

He was rubbing his chin in thought before he suddenly looked surprised and exclaimed, "It's that bimbo, Barbara!"

"Shit," you thought, before you told him, "Look, Jerome—"

"It's her, isn't it? What is it? Are you angry that she's been hanging around? I mean, she's been doing it a lot lately," he continued, and you only shook your head in response to keep up the facade.

"No, I'm not—"

"Then what is it?" he questioned, he was tenacious, which was so like him.

You couldn't think of a thing to say, you looked away again and curled your fingers into fists.

His eyes widened in realization before he spoke, "Is it? Are you—"

"Am I what?" you asked, your eyes narrowing dangerously. You didn't want to discuss it, he would only laugh his ass off about it, and you weren't in the mood for that.

"Are you jealous?" he cracked up, finding the situation to be quite the joke, and you merely shook your head.

"No," you said after too-long a pause in the conversation.

"You are!" he laughed triumphantly, and irritation and anger filled your senses, that he would laugh when you felt like this, though, it was exactly what you expected. "You are! You're jealous of Barbara! I can't believe it, I'd never thought in a million years—"

You surged forward to shove him back into the door, your body firmly pressed against his before you uttered through clenched teeth, "Shut. Up."

He only laughed when you pushed him back into the cool surface of the door, definitely not ready to let it go. "Make me," he challenged with that familiar wide grin on his face.

You took him up on that dare and shut him up the old fashioned way. You pressed your lips together in a rough, angry kiss. Teeth and lips and tongue, you possessed his mouth like you wanted to do to the ginger, body and soul. You wanted him to be yours and only yours, without the blond making her way through the mix. When you pulled back, he only started laughing again so you silenced him by pouring all your frustrations in another kiss, and that's when he started grinding his rapidly filling erection against your pelvis. If you could just keep him here forever, you thought, then you wouldn't have to go through the pain of being left behind again.

"Fuck," he pulled away from your face for a breath of air, his laughter building up once again before he told you, "You think I would rather have her?" he questioned, his voice thick with arousal, and his reverent hands wandered around your body.

You weren't sure to respond because you suddenly felt really stupid for having your doubts and letting your jealousy cloud your better judgement.

Your eyes met; locking in place for what seemed like an eternity. You hated feeling like this. You didn't let your emotions rule you for good reason. They threw your whole world out of whack and the situation you found yourself in was a prime example of that fact. It was more than you ever wanted to deal with but the ginger knew the truth when he heard it.

"You're the real beauty queen here, doll," he reassured you, tucking away the locks that blocked your vision. "You think I would rather do this," he lowered his hand down to cup your sex to demonstrate his point, making you automatically gasp in response, biting your lower lip, "with anyone else?"

"Maybe," you started as he leaned in again, "I just want to feel more included," you finished.

"Maybe I don't want that," his breath ghosted over yours, his eyes narrowing as he gazed into your eyes before he continued, "I don't want you to be in the line of fire, dollface," he admitted, "I couldn't have anything happen to this perfect, beautiful face," he stroked your cheek with his hand, and when you leaned into the warmth of his fingers, he couldn't help but chuckle in delight.

His words gave you the much needed comfort you longed to hear, your eyes never leaving his, and then he muttered to himself, "Barbara on the other hand," he trailed off and then snorted, "well sadly, I can't say the same for her," he finished with a cackle that you couldn't help but beam upon.

"Really dollface, you have nothing to worry about," he assured, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on the bridge of your nose, "the next time I find out that you're jealous of that bimbo I'm gonna have to slap the stupid out of you," he joked, or at least you thought he was.

"Okay, okay," you said, stifling the giggle that threatened to come spilling out.

"So we clear?" he asked, and you nodded your head quickly in answer. "Good, let's see that big smile now," he chuckled, and you almost instantly gave in, smiling as big as you could manage, just how he liked it.

"That's my girl," he grinned right back, and you both shared a laugh. You suddenly forgot what you were all worked up about now that he was here, making you feel better about the problem that should have never existed. He kissed your lips again, just for extra reassurance, much to your delight.

When he broke away, he smiled and licked his lips contentedly. Maybe there was something to be said about getting comfortable, after all.


End file.
